


I Will if You Will

by nialleritdidnthappen



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Summer Camp, Boys Kissing, First Kiss, M/M, Roommates, Skinny Dipping, Sneaking Out, Swimming, Teenagers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-04
Updated: 2017-07-04
Packaged: 2018-11-23 03:45:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11394690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nialleritdidnthappen/pseuds/nialleritdidnthappen
Summary: “So,” Niall says, in an attempt to sound casual that sends Harry into another burst of giddy, embarrassed laughter. Niall’s laughing too, his cheeks burning as he shrugs, “What now?”Harry turns to face the edge of the dock and gazes out over the pristine lake, sending Niall’s heart reeling when he turns to catch Niall’s eye with that reckless smile he knows all too well. “I will if you will.”





	I Will if You Will

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first prompt for 50 Drabbles, and I am both super excited and super nervous to be a part of this, haha. I hope you enjoy and I do love to hear what people think, so always feel welcome to comment or visit me on tumblr for a chat :) Cheers!

I Will if You Will

Prompt 24/50 for the Fifty Drabbles Collection 

By Caroline (nialleritdidnthappen.tumblr.com)

 

Harry makes Niall feel like a kid again.

Which is funny, because Niall _is_ a kid. Fifteen and a half is a long way from adulthood, and Niall is painfully aware of this. Spots and skinny limbs and embarrassing voice cracks remind him on a daily basis. But, like most boys his age, that knowledge doesn’t stop him from blurting the classic “I’m not a little kid anymore!” as a last ditch tactic to end arguments with overbearing parents, coddling aunts and uncles, condescending older brothers…

But there’s something about Harry that makes Niall rethink that sentiment altogether. Something about laughing eyes and tickling fingertips and playful jabs at Niall’s accent, blonde hair, nighttime retainer — always followed by a wink and an affectionate cuddle — that makes Niall think acting “like a kid” might not be such a bad thing. 

And then, there’s the gummy worms.

It’s the third night in a row that Niall can hear Harry creeping out from his lower bunk, just beneath a heavily snoring Louis, in the dark of their cabin. The third night in a row Harry is stealing away into the night to coerce Niall into cavorting about the campground by his side, captain and first mate embarking on a daring escapade of childish shenanigans, everything from climbing the tallest pine tree to collecting fireflies to chasing down the family of raccoons huddled beneath the mess hall porch. Far enough past curfew, mind, to warrant _severe_ consequences if they’re caught. The least of which would be a humiliating call home to mum and dad by the head counselor.

And Niall… by the light of day, the rule follower, the good little church boy, the counselor’s pet if ever there was one… it makes his stomach do somersaults. Makes his palms sweat and his heart flutter and his face flush with the heat of adventure and the thrill of secrecy and the overwhelming experience of everything that’s _Harry._ Despite the imminent threat to his reputation of being a sweet innocent, he can never, and will never, say no when Harry whisks him away for a little madness in the moonlight.  

Harry relishes in the danger, laughs in the face of it with reckless abandon that Niall cannot even begin to comprehend, but is slowly and surely becoming addicted to. 

Feigning sleep from his perch on the bunk just above Liam, who is snoozing all sprawled on his belly like a baby, Niall watches Harry slip out from warm blankets and onto the creaky wood of the cabin floor like a thief in the night. Crouched on all fours, he glances quickly left and right before skittering to the trunk beneath the window where his belongings are stored, rummages until he extracts what Niall cannot believe is yet _another_ noisy bag of gummy worms.

He’s beginning to wonder just how many snacks and sweets Harry has managed to sneak past the counselors when he catches Harry standing up and pointing his gaze toward Niall’s bunk, green eyes glinting impishly in a beam of moonlight.

A grin creeps across Niall’s face but he quickly stuffs it into his pillow, eyes shut tight.

This is his very favorite part of the game.   

Peeling open the crinkly bag of candy, Harry chirps like the crickets outside with little bursts of poorly stifled laughter, flinging treat after sugary treat with impeccable precision up to Niall’s bunk, smacking him in the forehead with the sweet-smelling morsels. Niall tries his hardest not to break the façade, adding some soft snores and incoherent sleeptalk for an extra layer of deception.

One, two, three sticky worms at a time are flying through the air and landing on Niall’s pillow while he bites his lip to hide his glee, until Harry is hissing petulantly through the dark, “Niall, you bug-eyed Irish tosser, wake _up!”_

Niall breaks the charade, grabs a fistful of the multicolored candies and snipes Harry mercilessly, laughing far too loud when Harry stumbles back in surprise and smacks right into the beam of his and Louis’ rickety bunk bed. He yelps in pain then freezes where he stands, a deer in the headlights, when Louis stirs on the second story mattress.

A lump rises in Niall’s throat and he’s frozen stiff on his bunk too, watching with unblinking eyes as Louis raises his head sluggishly… sniffles… smacks his lips… mumbles what sounds suspiciously like something about pigeons and how they have feelings _too_ , then face-plants back into his pillow with a _thwump_. Niall heaves a sigh of relief and Harry does the same, a hand on his chest to calm his thumping heart.

“You almost blew our cover!” he whispers, chucking a cherry-flavored worm which Niall catches and proceeds to gnaw at with teeth whose minty freshness won’t last much longer" 

“Me?!” he hisses, half a worm dangling from chapped lips that betray him with a grin, “You started it!”

Harry’s shoulders shake with silent chuckles, and he’s pulling trainers out from under his bed and slipping them on.

“So. You coming or what?”

Niall doesn’t say a word. Just hopes the moonlight reveals the giddy gleam in his eyes as he smiles down at Harry before crawling out from his blankets and scrambling down the ladder.

-

Cool air whips through Niall’s hair as he bounds down the cabin steps after Harry, the two boys scurrying down the path in trainers and basketball shorts and tousled hair, Harry’s t-shirt clinging to him with each burst of wind, Niall’s tank top providing feeble protection from what is turning out to be far colder a night than the previous two.

When they clear cabin row and are thoroughly concealed in the thick greenery hugging the path to main camp, Niall yanks Harry backwards by the drawstring bag and reaches in, extracting two flashlights to light the way.

“Jesus, gettin’ a little aggressive there, Horan?” Harry chuckles, speech muffled by the rubbery candies in his cheek as he clicks on his light and picks up his pace to surpass Niall, then turns effortlessly into a backwards walk so they can speak eye-to-eye.

“Says the bloke who has _literally_ sniped me with gummy worms for three nights in a row now, so you keep your mouth shut, _Styles,_ ” Niall smirks, advancing on Harry and snatching the candy bag into his own hands to dig for blue raspberry.

Harry makes a playful snatch to steal it back, and when Niall dodges the ambush Harry makes a second dive for Niall’s ribs and catches him dead on, wriggling his fingers into thin polyester and eliciting an embarrassing squeal from Niall as he swats him away, not sure if he’s shivering from the wind, the surprise tickle attack or the look in Harry’s eyes when he drawls, low and raspy in the chilled air, “You love it.”

Niall’s grin is incredulous, and he doesn’t know what to say, so he settles on elbowing Harry roughly in the side as they clear the last bit of path toward the main grounds, thumbs positioned cautiously on the switches of their flashlights should they catch sight or sound of a counselor on patrol. 

“So what’s it tonight?” Niall whispers as he skips alongside Harry, who’s walking with the same confident purpose he always does. A boy who knows exactly what he wants and where he is going. “Peanut butter milkshakes in the mess hall again? Those were _epic…”_

“Mmm, no milkshakes tonight,” Harry murmurs thoughtfully, a prideful little smirk on his lips, like impressing Niall with his milkshake-making skills two nights prior was his life’s greatest achievement.

“Another climb, then? I think we can get higher than we did last night… might even be able to see the waterfall if we make it all the way to the top…” 

Niall tells himself he’s _not_ trying to impress Harry, that he’s just developing a natural affinity for rule-breaking and adventure, but he’s not fooling anyone. Especially not Harry, with his sharp gaze and thoughtful lips and an aura of attentiveness about his entire being that says nothing ever escapes him. Sometimes, Niall swears that Harry can hear his very thoughts.

They’re already sauntering past the path to Pine Hill Creek by the time Niall finishes his question, so he knows there won’t be any climbing tonight before Harry shakes his head.

“Nope… maybe tomorrow though,” he says softly, a strangely calm segue into the flurry of actions that follows. Harry snatches up Niall’s wrist and veers off the grounds toward the surrounding thicket of trees, fumbling downhill over patchy forest floor. Off the beaten path in every sense of the phrase, and Niall has no idea where they are going.

“Harry, where are we…?” 

“Shhh.” he doesn’t stop or even slow down to speak, just pulls Niall along as the hillside steepens and they navigate around fallen logs and tree stumps and lush beds of full green leaves that Niall prays to God aren’t poison ivy. “You’re going to love it. Just follow me." 

Niall catches himself just before his ankle gets hooked around a gangly branch, evading what could have been quite a nasty fall for the both of them, and huffs in breathless laughter, “Do I have any other choice?!”

-

The scene before Niall’s eyes is like something out of a story book.

They finally clear the trees and escape into the open air once more, and Niall knows exactly where they are. They’re at the old dock. The one campers can always see way off in the distance, far across the lake, far from the newly renovated boathouse they use every day for kayak lessons and watersports.

Now, it’s the boathouse that is far, far away, its single lantern but another distant sparkling light among the thousands of stars reflected off the water’s surface, a second sky laid out before them.

Niall and Harry are standing on the long stretch of aging wood, moss creeping around the support beams and planks discolored from years of nonuse, every crack and inlet full of stories that Niall finds himself wanting to be a part of. There are stars above, stars below, and staring too long at the galaxy surrounding them makes Niall’s stomach flip like it does when he’s looking down from over the edge of a rollercoaster, knowing he’s about to fly through a freefall, and there’s no turning back. 

“So,” Harry says, startling Niall just a bit, “what do you think?”

“I… _yeah_ ,” he says stupidly, stumbling over his words until he finally managers, “yeah… I mean… _wow…_ ”

He’s relieved to hear Harry laugh in the same compassionate way he always does. “Had a feeling you’d like it.”

He walks forward a little, wraps his fingers gently around Niall’s forearm to nudge him along. “I thought maybe tonight, we could just… sit down here… chat a while." 

Once Niall is assuredly following suit, Harry lets his hand slip off of Niall’s arm, and Niall wishes he wouldn’t have. Feels his skin tingling where Harry’s fingers offered warmth a moment ago, craving the contact that had set butterflies loose in his belly. So he follows Harry down the dock, feet guided by the hope of restoring that connection.

“A little tame for your taste, innit?” Niall jokes, though he is genuinely surprised by this change of pace. Harry answers with a playful shrug and a skip in his step as he leads Niall to the edge of the starry water.

-

“Okay, okay I’ve got one,” Harry says, offering Niall what looks to be the last blue raspberry worm before helping himself to cherry. The bag is nearly empty now, and Niall’s stomach is a balloon full of sugar that he’ll surely regret in the morning but couldn’t care less about here, with Harry beside him. “How old were you when you had your first drink?”

Niall takes his favorite flavor gratefully, sure that his tongue is an outrageous shade of cerulean by now. The water is warm around his ankles as he swings his feet back and forth over the edge of the dock, matching Harry’s own childlike rhythm.

“You mean my first _sip_ of alcohol or like, a _drink_ drink?

“Well I’m not talking about your first Holy Communion, dummy—”

“Dad gave me a sippa whiskey when I was eight and it felt like drinkin’ gasoline,” Niall cuts in with a grin, and Harry’s eyes go wide, impressed. “Had my first Guinness when I was thirteen.”

Harry whistles, “Go on, Bobby!” and kicks up some water to splash at Niall’s skinny legs.

Niall gives him a look, then stares up at the sky, knowing Harry is still watching him. Niall likes the way Harry can joke around like that even though he’s only met Bobby a handful of times, always on the last day of camp when their parents come to pick them up. He knows how much he means to Niall, though, because he completely absorbs every story of home life Niall has ever confided in him.

“How about you?”

“Not nearly as impressive as you, I didn’t hit the booze until double digits,” Harry jokes, tracing ripples on the water with his big toe. “I was twelve when my stepdad let me have a beer with him that I couldn’t handle more than a few sips of… when my mum was away for the weekend,” he adds with a conspiratorial smile.

“Now your turn,” Harry mumbles with a friendly poke to Niall’s ribs.

“Oh, right... ermmm…”

Niall swallows down the last of the sweet, and blames the candy for the lump in his throat when he comes up with an idea for what must be their twentieth question by now. Something he wants to know about Harry, but feels reluctant, yet tempted, to share about himself.

He, too, begins to trace invisible pictures on the water while he pretends to think, watching starlight ebb and flow with the little waves while Harry’s expectant gaze meets his eyes in the reflection.

“You’ve got something up there,” Harry taps Niall’s temple, gentle, and Niall doesn’t flinch away. Just feels a soft blush creeping over his cheeks, “I can tell.”

“I, uh,” he laughs nervously and scratches at his bedhead, then turns to look at Harry, and braves it. “I was wondering, um… how old were you when… when you had your first kiss?”

Niall expects a huff of laughter, or a whistle or some string of teasing words, but what he doesn’t expect is silence, or for Harry’s feet to stop their swinging, or for Harry to stare into Niall’s eyes, his mouth a perfect line before the corner curves into the subtlest smile.

“You were nervous to ask me that.”

It’s not a question, so Niall doesn’t answer. Or maybe he does. Maybe Niall’s crimson ears and bitten bottom lip tell Harry everything he needs to know.

Harry’s eyes stay fixed on Niall’s, and the smile doesn’t fade. “Eleven,” he says, feet resuming their steady swing in the warm water. “I was eleven. He was twelve with horrid breath,” he smiles at the memory, splashes water aimlessly out into the lake, “but he was nice. And nervous. Like me. How about you?”

Niall knew he liked boys and only boys by the time he was ten, so he has had plenty of time to get used to his lack of passing privileges. It’s because of this that he sits and watches Harry, lips parted dumbly, almost too stunned to have met someone his age who can talk so openly about kissing a boy that it takes a moment for him to catch up to the question. Harry arches his eyebrows fondly, an invitation back to reality. “How about you, Nialler?” he repeats.

“Oh, I…” Niall trails off, a sudden comfort settling in his bones, assuring him that it’s all right to tell the truth. “I’ll, uh… I’ll keep you posted,” he punctuates it with a self-deprecating smile.

Niall’s hunched over now, elbows on his knees, staring down at his own watery reflection, which, quite suddenly, becomes a pair of reflections as Harry leans down to knock his head against Niall’s shoulder, chuckling warmly, “Patience, Daniel-san.”

Then, he’s tearing half of the final worm with his teeth, offering the other half to Niall in what feels like a pact, a promise. Niall accepts the offering and swallows it down in just a few bites.

“So I guess that means you’ve never… well…”

Niall turns to Harry again, and for what must be the first time since they’ve met, Harry looks unsure of what he wants to say. It’s a bit of a shock to the system for Niall, and not knowing what to do with himself, he just looks on curiously, waiting for him to finish.

Harry gathers himself – not entirely, but it’s a solid effort – and says, “I guess you’ve never… done anything _else_ with a boy then…”

Maybe it’s the comfort that had settled over him, making him less tactful in his attitude and words, but in any case, Niall surprises himself when he scoffs and readjusts on the edge of the dock, murmuring a bit grudgingly, “Well geez, you don’t have to rub it right in my face—”

“No! No, gosh, that’s not… that’s not what I meant at all… I, _shit_ …" 

Niall watches as Harry falls apart again, and the defensiveness that crept up into his chest and shoulders at Harry’s initial words fades away, replaced with an empathy for the anxiety Harry is obviously feeling right now about whatever it is he’s trying to say. Harry’s picking up the pieces of his broken sentence, and Niall thinks it might be one of the sweetest things he’s ever seen.

“What I meant was… that _I_ haven’t done anything else, with a boy, either… that is. And… yeah.”

There’s a wall crumbling down between them that Niall never even realized was there in the first place. And now that Harry has come out of hiding, from under windswept hair and cheeky grins and smooth, silvery words, Niall thinks he might be even more beautiful than before.

“You were supposed to ask me a question,” Niall says, tucking his arms over his chest and offering Harry a playful smirk, “not make a confession.”

Harry’s shoulders rise and fall swiftly as he sighs with relief that Niall isn’t mad, that he understands, and Niall kicks some water onto Harry’s shins for good measure, earning himself a laugh and a little kick right back. 

“I guess… I just feel like you’re the kind of person I can confess to,” Harry says, and Niall feels something prickly and pleasant stirring in his belly. “Like… I don’t know. I get nervous talking about it with the other lads, because I know they’ve got girlfriends and they’ve done plenty, and I’ve never even…”

There’s a pause, and Niall hums, low and questioning, encouraging Harry to continue.

“… never even been like… _naked_ with a boy… you know, in that way…”

Niall nods slowly, nibbles at his bottom lip, caught somewhere between completely understanding where Harry’s coming from, and being utterly shocked that he and this firework of a human that he’s admired summer after summer are more alike than he ever could have imagined. 

“I really want to, though,” Harry adds, confession punctuated with timid laughter. “Really… really want to.”

“Yeah. And I really… really want to be ki—" 

The first sensation Niall can fully grasp is the warmth.

The warmth of Harry’s palm where it cups his cheek, the warm tip of Harry’s nose where it’s brushing against his own, Harry’s breath where it tickles his tongue through barely parted lips.

Then, it’s the taste.

Mint, and sugar, bursts of cherry and orange and lemon, and the saltiness of lips that have been licked and bitten nervously in the moments leading to this one. A flavor that, even though this is his first kiss, Niall is confident is uniquely and completely Harry.  

 _First kiss,_ he thinks, and suddenly, his heart is racing to catch up, and he’s leaning in, drowning in the sensations until Harry pulls away, leaving Niall’s lips wet and cold and desperately aching for more, keeping a steadying hand against his flushed cheek.

“I’m sorry, I…” Harry stammers, eyes glowing under moonlight, searching Niall’s face for reaction, affirmation, a sign that he didn’t cross a line. “Was that… okay?”

Only then does Niall realize he is panting, hard, and he wants to shove Harry right off the dock and into the water for asking such a stupid question.

“Yeah,” he breathes, then nods, and repeats through a flustered smile, “Yeah… yes. _Yes.”_

Harry’s lips look soft and pink, and Niall can barely keep his eyes off them when Harry presses their foreheads together, hand sliding down to rest on Niall’s shoulder.

“Good. Been wanting to do that for a while.” His voice is barely more than a whisper, and his palm is warm against Niall’s skin. And then, his fingertips are tracing lightly over the strap of his loose tank top.

“And I was thinking…” he pulls back a little, to get a good look at Niall, to read his expression thoroughly as he speaks with warm and kind, yet curious and uncertain, eyes. “… Maybe… maybe there could be a first for _both_ of us tonight.”

Harry’s fingers are gliding gently down Niall’s chest now, pinching at the fabric in timid little tugs to let Niall know exactly what he is asking. As if Niall needs reminding. As if his heart isn’t fluttering to keep up with Harry’s hands and words and intentions yet again, his hands wringing nervously while his stomach does somersaults at the memory of Harry’s words: _Never even been naked with a boy… in that way…_

Niall swallows before he speaks, fearing his voice might crack from the pure adrenaline rushing through every vein, tingling every inch of his skin.

“I will if you will.”

At Niall’s words, Harry doesn’t smile. Doesn’t frown. Just looks at him like he’s just made the most sacred promise of his life, like he trusts Niall deeply and purely, with every part himself. Like he hopes and believes that Niall feels the same way about him.

Harry hoists himself up into a squat on the dock, takes Niall’s hand, and guides him up until they’re standing, face-to-face.

The next few moments feel like swimming, like moving in slow motion, where everything is smooth, purposeful, guided by desire and intention. And yet, at the same time, it’s bubbling over with excitement, nerves, a final kiss of innocence to bid them both farewell just before Niall’s hands are pulling slowly at the hem of Harry’s t-shirt, and Harry is raising his hands to the sky while it is stripped from his skin and dropped to the dock.

They barely look at each other’s bodies at first, eyes still fixed on the other’s when Harry frees Niall of his tank and drops it into the steadily growing heap of shirts, trainers, two socks, four socks…

It’s not until he’s standing in nothing but his basketball shorts and cotton underwear that Niall realizes how cool the air has become, and how his arms have broken out into goosebumps. He shivers, and it’s noticeable, because Harry laughs and coos softly, and begins to quickly rub up and down his arms, building friction to combat the chill.

“’M okay,” Niall reassures him with a shaky laugh.

Harry nods, and the rubbing slows, until his hands are sliding down Niall’s arms to entwine themselves in his fingers. Then, he’s guiding Niall’s hands, placing them gently against the waistband of his shorts.

“You can do me first… if you want to?” 

It’s the first time Niall’s eyes have dropped from Harry’s, and they’re out of control now, wandering over a pale, lightly defined chest, and a smooth but toned belly whose fine lines of muscle disappear beneath the elastic, making Niall’s fingers tingle with curiosity. He nods, looks to Harry once more for the green light, then hooks fingers into mesh and cotton, sliding shorts and boxers over pronounced hipbones until they pool into a bunch around his ankles.

Harry’s feet kick them away, and Niall hears his breath hitch as he takes Harry in, from the tips of his toes, to firm-looking thighs and a patch of hair trailing over taut abdomen up to a bellybutton Niall thinks he wants to kiss, to strong shoulders and pink lips and everything in between. His eyes must say it all, must say how _gorgeous_ he thinks Harry is, because Harry shakes with embarrassed laughter and, finally, Niall is starting to see little patches of pink color his dimples. 

Harry reaches out, fingers brushing along Niall’s waistband now.

“Okay if I…?”

“Yeah,” Niall nods, the butterflies in his tummy going absolutely mad at the mere touch of Harry’s fingertips, the way they tickle the skin just under his bellybutton sending a jolt of pleasure through him that he prays to God he has the self-discipline to control. 

Before Niall has even a second to change his mind, Harry hooks his fingers under the waistline and pushes shorts and plain white briefs to the floor, and Niall’s looking down at himself, breathing so fast that he nearly loses his balance when he shakes the discarded clothing from his ankles.

Harry’s hand is a steadying presence on his arm and his lilt of laughter makes Niall shake his head and blush at his own clumsiness. He looks up to meet Harry’s eyes, but they’re already long gone, journeying down gangly arms and a belly that’s not quite as toned as his own, over hips and, to Niall’s horror, a dead giveaway of just how attracted to Harry he is. 

He nearly succumbs to the instinct to cover himself up and withdraw bashfully, but Harry stops him with comforting hands on his wrists the moment he begins to move.

“God, Niall… you’re… _perfect.”_

He brushes a thumb low on Niall’s belly, while his other hand connects the freckles from his shoulder, across the fine lines of his chest, down his front and finally cups itself comfortably against his hip. Niall’s gaze drops again, and he’s relieved to see he’s not quite alone in his insuppressible excitement.

“So,” he says, in an attempt to sound casual that sends Harry into another burst of giddy, embarrassed laughter. Niall’s laughing too, his cheeks burning as he shrugs, “What now?”

Harry hums contemplatively, eyes wandering up to the sky and tongue poking at the side of his mouth like he’s deep in thought, and it makes Niall grin even wider.

“I think I have at least _one_ really great idea…” Harry angles himself out to face the edge of the dock and gaze out over the pristine lake, sending Niall’s heart reeling when he turns to catch Niall’s eye with that reckless smile he knows all too well.

Niall’s grinning, trembling, and surely blushing head to toe when Harry smiles, “I will if you will.”

Without a second’s hesitation Niall makes a beeline for the water with Harry hot on his heels, bouncing off the dock into a cannonball and sending up a splash so strong he’s surely soaked all their clothes, but he doesn’t care. When he breaks the surface, shaking out his hair and sputtering salty water from his lips, all he cares about is the boy who dives headfirst into the water after him, moving in a perfect breaststroke to where Niall is treading, waiting for him.

“Nice touch,” Niall says when Harry’s finally by his side, pushing soaked curls off of his forehead. Niall nods back toward the dock, indicating Harry’s clever play on his words from earlier that sent both boys barreling for the water in what could not be a more perfect end ( _or beginning,_ Niall thinks) to their night.

Harry smirks proudly yet again, and his hands find Niall’s ribs under the water for a tickle that sends Niall squirming in a fit of laughter.

“You love it.”


End file.
